


The Moose and the Man-Demon

by Ismene_Jane



Series: Supesnatch Drabbles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley Being an Asshole, Crowley and Feelings, Hurt Crowley, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Needles, Sam is a sick puppy, Sam takes love where he can get it, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1651454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/pseuds/Ismene_Jane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a little fucked up.<br/>Crowley tends to understand these things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moose and the Man-Demon

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been having major writers block when it comes to CHWH, but have been writing some weird ass drabbles.  
> I've decided to share them.
> 
> After the last episode of Season Eight, I thought that this pairing had to be written.   
> It is dark. There are spoilers for Season Nine. Sam is not in a good place.
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks to LennaNightrunner and Pegasus_Eridana for their amazing beta skills.

“We’ve _got_ to stop meeting like this, Moose.”

He’s not even there two seconds and he already wants to punch Crowley in the fucking face. Which seems to be the status quo of their little… encounters.

But then Crowley will relax, get all pliant and desperate for affection. And Sam is desperate to feel someone be desperate for him.

It’s a sick, twisted desperation circle, and Sam can’t seem to get enough of it.

“Shut up, Crowley,” he grunts as he unlocks the chains around Crowley’s hands. Just his hands, though. Sam might be a fuck-up who gets off on being wanted by the former King of Hell, but he’s not an _idiot_.

He can hear Dean’s voice in his mind, saying, “Yeah, alright, Stanford” and doesn’t allow himself time to be annoyed this internal monologue has taken on Dean-like qualities. Instead, he climbs into Crowley’s lap, their disparate heights not as much of a problem in this position, but Sam knows from experience that he’ll still have to scrunch down to kiss the demon.

When he’s satisfied with the level of begging.

“We both love this,” he says harshly, taking Crowley’s dick out of his pants. “And we both know how much you want to be loved, in any way.” Crowley tenses at that. The reminder of their time in that church weighs heavy on the demon, and Sam smiles whenever he can remind Crowley of his humanity. The humanity that Sam continues to deliver in the form of a syringe.

After he’s gotten off, of course.

He tips Crowley’s head back and kisses him. Forcing the tension out of Crowley’s frame by licking the roof of his mouth and biting into the demon’s tongue and lips, the clashing of their teeth coming together jarring the arousal in them both. Spiking it, making it run hot in Sam’s veins and dammit he _knows_ this is wrong but he feels so fucking alive with the demon writhing beneath him.

Crowley’s hands are running all over the younger Winchester’s body, sliding up underneath his flannel and undershirt. Sam opens his own pants and frees his cock, spitting into his giant hand and fisting their two dicks together. He releases Crowley’s mouth and leans back against the table behind him, allowing the demon full access to everything he can reach. Crowley pushes Sam’s shirts off his torso, forcing his hands to stop, momentarily.

Sam shucks his flannel and undershirt and grips their cocks once again, setting up a bruising rhythm that almost chafes with only his spit and their sweat and pre-cum for lubricant. But it’s perfect, this rawness. He feels it stripping his nerves, reminding him that he is alone in his own mind, no more bastard angels setting up shop.

He knows when the demon’s orgasm is approaching, because he starts making these pathetic, pleading noises.

“Please, Moose. Samantha. Please, please, please.” The nicknames stop his hand. His own body crying out at the lack of friction, but his mind crowing at the exertion of control. Because Sam _is_ in control, of this if nothing else in his life.

Not even his death.

But this, Crowley gives him. And he’ll never let on how thankful he is, to be allowed to be in charge of their encounters. To know that Crowley needs him. It’s simple, and good.

Crowley keens at the loss of stimulus, then growls, pulling Sam flush against him, forcing the younger Winchester upright.

“Please, Sam,” he says, placating. “Please make me come and then give me your blood. Please.”

Sam can hear the sarcasm, the loathing in the demon’s voice, but he ignores it. Instead, he works their cocks once more, feeling Crowley’s mouth latch on to his nipple as they get closer and closer and closer to the edge.

Crowley falls first, as always. He throws his head back and groans, face becoming slack and almost innocent in pleasure, as always. Sam is thankful for the thick walls of the bunker, just like always. And he uses Crowley’s spunk to ease his way to his own release, as always.

Things between them are predictable, and Sam appreciates that. He appreciates how reliable Crowley is in this, the stability these encounters provide. Nothing else is stable. Nothing. But this? This he can trust.

He makes Crowley lick his hand clean before drawing his own blood into a syringe.

He always does it this way, half naked on Crowley’s lap, his soft dick heavy on the denim of his jeans. He likes to feel Crowley watching him, appreciating everything that Sam _chooses_ to give to him.

As he jabs the needle into Crowley’s neck and watches as the demon’s eyes roll back into his head for the second time that night, he allows himself to think about how fucked up this is.

Then he takes out the syringe, sucks lightly on the point of entry in the darker haired man’s neck, and lets that thought go.

As always.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Concerns, and Kudos are always welcome.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
